Wednesday, 12 December 2012

More from The Provincial Lady

My copy of Macmillan's 1947 four-in-one
The Provincial Lady doesn't have a dust
jacket, bit would originally have had one
like this.

One
of the great joys of volunteering in a charity bookshop is that
occasionally - well, fairly frequently if I am to be totally honest -
I come across a book I really, really want. In this particular
instance the Object of Desire was a volume containing FOUR
Provincial Ladies, so how could I resist? (Query: Was it sound
financial management to buy this, when I already have the First
Diary, even if it is covered in inappropriate Cath Kidston chintz,
and The Second, downloaded from Project Gutenberg Australia?)

Actually,
I think it was money well spent, because the first PL book is the only one readily available. In addition, I have a wonderful book to lift my
spirits, and Oxfam has £4.99, of which 84 per cent will go directly
into the pot for emergency response, development work and campaigning
for change, while the remainder covers support and running costs, and
fundraising costs. Sorry about the plug, but I think it's a point
worth making, because there's a general perception that most of the
cash donated for charities goes on administration, and while I don't
know anything about other organisations, as far as Oxfam is concerned
this is simply not true.

Anyway,
my 'new' 1947 edition of EM Delafield's The Provincial Lady is a faded blue (easy on the eye, but not very photographic) and currently has pride of place on the bookshelf. Published by Macmillan
& Co, it contains Diary of a Provincial Lady, The
Provincial Lady Goes Further, The Provincial Lady in America,
and The Provincial Lady in Wartime, with a foreword by Irish
writer Kate O'Brien.

I've
already written about Diary
of a Provincial Lady, so rather than individual posts on each of
the other books, here are a few thoughts on the follow-ups.

The
Provincial Lady Goes Further is, if anything, even funnier than
its predecessor. Our heroine has become a successful author, and is
disturbed by the curious behaviour of neighbours who now suspect her
of Putting Them into a Book. Despite her new-found literary fame
her financial situation is as precarious as ever, but she engages a
holiday tutor for the children, takes the family on holiday to
France. and acquires a flat in London with the intention of writing
uninterrupted by the trials and tribulations of domestic life.
However, she's easily distracted and, as usual, nothing in her
chaotic life goes according to plan. She remains surprisingly
good-humoured as she totters from crisis to crisis, but makes
acerbic comments about her friends, family, acquaintances, and
people's social pretensions.

It's
the throw-away lines I love – non sequiturs on domestic life that
get a mention, but are never referred to again. For example:

Cook
sends in a message to say that there has been a misfortune with the
chops, and shall she make do with a tin of sardines?

What
kind of misfortune can occur to chops? Did Helen Wills (the cat) eat
them? Did they get dropped? Did Cook burn them? Had they gone off?
And what kind of substitute meal could one rustle up at short notice
with sardines, which I assume must have been tinned? Alas, we never
learn: it's just one of those unaccountable domestic disasters which
occur in the best regulated households. It reminded me of the time in
my own (unregulated) household when I was in the office on weekend
duty, so the Man of House set about cooking fish fingers, mash and
beans for The Daughters, only to discover there were no fish fingers.
So, with great ingenuity, he tipped beans into a dish, piled mashed
potatoes on the top, and told the girls it was Fish Finger Surprise -
the surprise being that there were no fish fingers. But they ate
every mouthful without complaint as they searched for the missing
ingredient, something they rarely did for me!

Pamela Pringle, in an illustration by
Arthur Watts for The Provincial Lady
Goes Further.

Old
friends, like Our Vicar's Wife, are still present, but the book is
enlivened by the arrival of Pamela Pringle (known to the Provincial
Lady many years ago as Pamela Warburton), who is extraordinarily
beautiful and rich, has run through a collection of husbands and
lovers, but claims never to Lead a Man on, and maintains it is not
her fault that men have always gone mad about her.

In
The Provincial Lady in America our
unnamedheroine's
American publishers invite her on a publicity tour, so she sub-lets
her London flat and buys new clothes – most of which turn out to be
as unsuitable as her existing wardrobe, and which look distinctly
crumpled when she unpacks them. She is ill crossing the
Atlantic aboard a luxury liner and, as usual, I find myself
sympathising with the agonies of a fellow bad traveller:

New
remedy for sea-sickness provided by Rose may or may not be
responsible for my being still alive, but that is definitely the
utmost that can be said for it.

Once
in America she is whisked off on a relentless merry-go-round of
lectures, social events, and yet more travel. She follows a
rigid timetable, and finds there is little time to do the things she
wants. She does manage to stand her ground about visiting home of
Louisa May Alcott (her own literary heroine), but only through the
intervention of an eminent critic. She discovers cocktails, which
give her Dutch courage, and finds that Tea Parties are a Feature of
Life.

Am
by this time becoming accustomed to American version of a tea-party,
and encounter cocktails and sandwiches with equanimity, but am much
struck by scale on which the entertainment is conducted...

As
inept and amenable as ever, she is terrified by American women, and I
can't say I blame ber. The ones she meets would scare a saint: they
are over-bearing, voluble, energetic, enthusiastic, well dressed,
organised, well read, knowledgeable, determined, and will brook no
opposition to what they want. The Provincial Lady soon realises that
will never take 'no' for answer, that they have their own ideas
about what a British author likes and dislikes – and that nothing
she does or says will change their minds. But on the whole they are
kindly, and very hospitable and, as in the first two books, it's the
small incidents which delight, and the descriptions of people and
places.

However,
there's a change of tone in The Provincial Lady in Wartime, which
feels a little more forced and is not as funny as the other
books. Apparently, she had decided there would be no more PL books,
but her publishers asked her to resurrect the character at the start
of WW2, so perhaps that's why it seems to lack sparkle. There's also
a poignancy about the book, especially when the Provincial Lady
mentions her son Robin (still at school, but almost old enough to be
called up) for Delafield's own son, Lionel, was killed in an
unexplained accident at an Infantry Training Centre in 1940, the year
the book was published.

Robert trying a gas mask on Cook, from an illustration
by Illingworth for The Provincial Lady in America.

It
covers the first few months of the conflict, the 'phony war' when
little was happening, and many people were convinced that things
would somehow be resolved peacefully. Evacuees descend on the village
– an event which neither evacuees nor villagers are prepared for –
while Robert, our heroine's husband, dispenses gas masks to everyone
in his role as ARP organiser for the district.

Cook
shows a slight inclination towards coyness when Robert adjusts one on
her head with stout crosspiece, and replies from within, when
questioned, that It'll do nicely, sir, thank you. (Voice sounds very
hollow and sepulchral.)

Robert
still dissatisfied and tells me that Cook's nose is in quite the
wrong place, and he always thought it would be, and that what she
needs is a large size.

The
Provincial Lady moves to London, hoping to put her literary skills to
good use with the Ministry of Information. But, like everyone else,
she finds herself 'Standing By' and volunteers in the WVS canteen at
an underground ARP station. A whole host of new people are
introduced, but I felt there was an element of cruelty in some of her
descriptions, turning them into caricatures rather than characters.
The Commandant is a grotesque re-incarnation of Charmian
Vivian, Director of The Midland Supply Depot in The
War Workers, and the portrayal of Granny Bo Peep tips over the
edge of comedy into unkindness. There's a darker edge here, a
tenseness, with people deprived of concrete information trying to sift rumour from from reality as
they wait to see what will happen.

But
Delafield is still witty, still able to poke fun at social pretensions, and still
recognises that it's the small every-day things that people worry
about, rather than major issues, and can still be very funny.

I
have yet to find a copy of 'The Provincial Lady in Russia' (also
published as 'Straw Without Bricks: I visit the Soviets') which
Delafield wrote after visiting the USSR.

PS: If there's anyone out there who wants a hardback Virago Anniversary edition of The Diary of a Provincial Lady, I have one going spare, and I don't want anything for it (unless postage is exorbitant!). It's in really good condition, apart from a small patch of missing surface on one page of Jilly Cooper's introduction - it looks as if something sticky got pulled off the paper.

21 comments:

I bought the first two of the series about 20 years ago, when all the Provincial Lady books were reissued in gorgeous dust-jacketed paperbacks. I can't remember the publisher, and unfortunately, I gave those volumes away when I replaced them all with vintage clothbounds. Those paperback editions must be out of print now. But I do recall that the publisher titled the second in the series The Provincial Lady in London rather than The Provincial Lady Goes Further. The others had the same titles as you cite: Diary of, in America, in Wartime, and in Russia. Delightful books all.

I have that same edition! I love the scene in 'America' where she and Mademoiselle enjoy themselves by sobbing their way through the film of Little Women. I go right off the PL in 'Wartime'. I think she'd be more useful back home in the village. The tone of that book is all wrong, somehow. It compares very unfavourably with Henrietta's War, which I love and reread often.

Oddly enough I cut out two final paragraphs which said just that:"Personally I thought 'Henrietta's War' by Joyce Dennys, was funnier, and her characters are drawn with a warmth that 'The Provincial Lady in Wartime' lacks. Dennys' novel, written in the form of letters, shows the effect of the war on a small Devon village, and describes the kind of life the Provincial Lady might have faced had she stayed at home. And there is more truth and compassion in 'Good Evening, Mrs Craven', Mollie Panter-Downes' collection of war-time short stories.

I'm not saying that I didn't enjoy 'The Provincial Lady in Wartime,' because I did – I just felt it wasn't quite as good as the other three PL novels I read, and there are other works of fiction which cover the same period better."

I love this series, my four-in-one volume is looking a bit tatty these days though! I do hope someone republishes them in a nice edition again, along with the Russia book (which I still haven't read). :)

Karen, he original Diary of a Provincial Lady written in diary form (obviously), was published in 1930, and written by EM Delafield, who seems to have based it on her own life. Considered to be a classic of its kind, its a very funny account of the life of a married, middle class mother-of-two who lives in a small village, has literary aspirations, doesn't work, is perpetually short of cash, but nevertheless has servants and sends her son to a private school. It is delightful, and the first two books are the best.Her comments on domestic disasters are hilarious, as are her descriptions of friends and family.

The Provincial Lady is one of my faavourites and a perennial re-read - or will be again when I can replace my Virago four in one volume that my puppy ate. Like her mistress she knows a good book when she comes across one.

Lovely review of this wonderful series, Christine! I have the same edition, but I've read it so often that the spine has fallen off... I also have various other copies of the books singly, if they have different illustrations... I'm an addict.

PL Goes Further was the first one I read, and remains my favourite - I love it so much. I should warn you, PL in Russia is *not* a Provincial Lady book - that was just a title a later publisher added, to flog more copies. It's still a good book, and often funny, but it's very definitely not got the same feel as these. Forewarned is forearmed!

Thanks for reminding me of our dear Provincial Lady. I have read "Diary" and "Goes Further". I have in my possession "In America" but for some reason it was lost on my shelves - that does happen sometimes - and I have now pulled it out and will start it as soon as I finish reading Shirley Jackson's domestic chaos book "Life Among the Savages" which is not nearly as entertaining as the PL tales. I enjoy the diary format...it is so much more personal and intimate.